When he crossed the track Madge was not where he had last seen her.
The road beyond ran at a greater distance from the railway, and was
lined with trees and bushes. Through an opening among these he saw
that the horse had resumed his old mad pace, that Madge was still
mounted, but that she was no longer erect, and sat with her head bowed
and her whip-hand clutching the mane. He also saw, with a sinking
heart, that the road curved a little further on, and evidently crossed
the track again.
A moment later--Oh, horror! An opening in the foliage revealed Madge
dashing headlong, apparently, into the train. He grew so faint that he
almost fell from his horse, and was scarcely conscious, until, with
a strong revulsion of hope, he found himself under the track which,
about an eighth of a mile from the previous crossing, passes just
above the roadway. Not aware of this fact, and with vision broken by
intervening trees, he could not have imagined anything else than a
collision, which must have been fatal in its consequences.
With hope his pulse quickened, his strength returned, and he again
urged his jaded horse forward, at the same time sending out his voice:
"Madge, Madge, keep up a little longer.
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